Walk, McCarthy, walk.
Copyright, 1898, by T. B. Harms & Co.
Words and Music by B. H. Janssen.
One August day a farmer, driving down a country road,
He met McCarthy, J, and Mac to him did say:
"If you don't mind, I'd like to walk behind your truck awhile."
"All right, climb up the back." "No, let me walk," says Mack.
The farmer said, "No! come up here, there's room enough for two."
McCarthy only shook his head, "I'll walk, if that suits you."
The farmer laughed and heard him, as he slowly drove ahead;
For Mac kept talking to himself, and this is what he said:
Walk, walk, walk, McCarthy, walk and wear a smile;
You had a great old chance to ride, but, like a fool, threw it aside,
So walk, walk, walk, McCarthy, swallow all the dust;
You burned your money, 'tis all gone, so walk because you must.
He never stopped a minute in his quaint soliloquy,
"I'll beat them even yet if once a chance I get.
I made me money like a man and spent it like the same.
The whole town did I know, they'd bow wherever I'd go."
You were a good thing, Mac, old boy, and pushed along for fair;
They never told you, did they, Mac, that aces beat a pair?
You paid for suppers and champagne, to friends who called you Mac;
You loaned your rings to ladies, and they never brought them back.-Cho.
It took you twenty years, or so, to make your little pile,
And working every day, putting ev'ry cent away;
It took you twenty months, or so, to blow in all you had;
And all that's left, you wear, and hope that that won't tear;
Your dress suit is at Rubenstein's when it's not at a hall:
Two Dutchmen, Groll and Pfeiffer, now own James McCarthy's hall;
Your sweetheart, Mamie Cassidy, has married Pat McCann;
McFadden sold your trotter to a Low-Dutch grocery man.- Chorus.